


shining just like diamonds do

by rumandraisins



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, M/M, as in, but also assistant museum curator Suga, but can they even be called references who knows, chief inspector Oikawa, phantom thief Suga, shameless references to the movie Anastasia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 16:04:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13685067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumandraisins/pseuds/rumandraisins
Summary: The Seijoh Metropolitan MuseumWednesday, 2000 hoursLet’s make a date of it, Inspector.Because phantom thieves make it a business to go about stealing pretty things and coincidentally enough, Chief Inspector Oikawa Tooru makes it his business to be the prettiest of them all.





	shining just like diamonds do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arc_kakusei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arc_kakusei/gifts).



> I'm only about half-responsible okay, arc_kakusei and I were just having a perfectly normal conversation about Ace Attorney and Persona 5, but it somehow quickly devolved into... this. She's amazing. I hope I was able to do phantom thief Suga stealing hearts even a little bit of the justice he deserves.
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day to anyone reading this! Who needs chocolate when you have OiSuga, amirite? :D
> 
> Title taken from Seeing Stars by BØRNS.

The notice was found that morning by the day security guard, waiting for him on the display window of the ticket booth.

_The Seijoh Metropolitan Museum_

_Wednesday, 2000 hours_

_Let’s make a date of it, Inspector._

It’s like he’s taunting Tooru. 

The chief inspector already has about half a mind to crumple up the note, with its mocking words and its stupid signature, and toss it someplace where it rightfully belonged. 

The bottom of the ocean, for example. 

But it’s evidence. And an advanced warning. And... a proposition. 

For a date.

Iwa-chan had rolled his eyes when he saw because of course, only Tooru could get into a situation as ridiculous as being courted, however playfully, by the city’s most notorious phantom thief. Meanwhile, Makki and Mattsun had been going around the museum leering all day because _technically,_ they said, _it’s Oikawa who’s been doing all the chasing._

Tooru throws a fit, but they’re not actually wrong. 

He’s been chasing after the White Crow for what feels like a very, very long time. His entire career has been a series of disappointments, in fact - a sad, neverending story of _almost’_ s and _so close’_ s and _he was right there’_ s. Always an empty display case and a calling card embossed with a white crow, _Until next time, Inspector._

And somehow, even after all of that, he’d still been able to make chief, just by virtue of the fact that no one else had ever gotten closer to catching the thief than Tooru. 

But close is not caught and it’s turned into this monster that is the one big obsession of Oikawa Tooru’s life. 

Sometimes, Tooru thinks the White Crow _enjoys_ being obsessed about, what with all his notes that seem to be laughing at Tooru every time he looks at them, and _let’s make a date of it, Inspector,_ as if he didn’t know that for a date to work out, the other party actually has to show up for more than the five seconds it takes for him to liberate his current object of desire before making off with it into the night to the soundtrack of his evil, thieving laughter. 

But.

If it’s a date he wants, then Tooru will sit him down and chain him to the dinner table himself. Of course, it’s going to be a dinner table in a prison cell, which isn’t really ideal for a first date, but one can’t be too scrupulous about these things.

He looks up from the note resolutely and announces, “I’m going to do some more recon.”

Makki smirks. _“Recon,”_ he says, salaciously. “Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

“What the kids are calling what?” Tooru asks, pocketing the note. “It’s just recon.”

 _“Recon.”_ It’s Mattsun this time. “Honestly, I think it’s more of an excuse so we won’t pity him for not having enough guts to ask for Suga-chan’s number for the millionth time.”

“I mean,” Makki shrugs. “Even the White Crow’s asked for a date faster than he has, at this point.”

“Breaking news, phantom thief - better game than Oikawa-sama since 1993.”

“Since I was _born?”_

“Oikawa-sama, bested by the phantom thief in the love department, yet again.”

“He hasn’t even bested me there _one time!”_

“From all the information we’ve gathered, Hanamaki-san, are you of the opinion that the phantom thief is even better in bed than Oikawa-sama?”

“Stop calling me Oikawa-sama!” Tooru stomps his foot. “And I’m not going in there to ask for anyone’s number! This is my _job._ I am catching the White Crow _tonight,_ that is my _priority,_ and it’ll take up all my _attention_ and _focus-“_

“Oi, Iwaizumi!” Mattsun calls to Iwa-chan, who’s been examining employee logs in the passenger seat of the squad car for the better part of the afternoon now. “Is Suga-chan working today?”

Tooru’s brain immediately halts all functions, in favor of this suddenly very important piece of information.

Iwa-chan looks up from the papers with a glare and a raised fist. “Aren’t _you_ supposed to be _working,_ you lazy fucks?”

Which really shouldn’t work as effectively as it does, but it does. Makki and Mattsun disperse back to their perimeter check, stopping to harrass Watacchi where he’s been posted at the museum entrance. Tooru sighs and starts making his way back there too, but Iwa-chan stops him with a cough. 

“What?” Tooru turns back, raising a brow.

“Yes,” Iwa-chan’s smile can almost be called mischievous. “He _is_ working today.”

Tooru stumbles a step.

  


* * *

  


Stupid Makki.

Stupid Mattsun.

Stupid Iwa-chan.

Of course Suga-chan is working today. He’s the museum’s assistant curator, why _wouldn’t_ he be working today? Why _wouldn’t_ he be heading up a tour for preschool kids, looking simultaneously adorable and hot in his work slacks and his button up and his ridiculous wide frame glasses that somehow make his eyes look even bigger than they actually are? Why _wouldn’t_ he make Tooru want to just stop and stare while he talked about some old vase made for some long-dead king by some long-dead potter with microscopic brushwork by some long-dead artist that might have meant something a long time ago, to people who were long dead? Why _wouldn’t_ he be effortlessly charming a bunch of bored, restless preschool kids, with his easy smile and his tinkling laugh and his lollipops? 

Tooru watches as he gracefully handles being almost trampled by ravenous four-year-olds freaking out over the sight of candy without even batting an eye. He bends down to their level and holds up his offering, still laughing, letting them crawl all over his lap and touch his face and pat at his hair-

_I wish Suga-chan would let me pat at his hair._

What.

Tooru shakes his head, trying to rid himself of all errant thoughts. The White Crow. That’s who he’s here for today. No one else. He can afford to let himself get distracted the moment he’s put that godforsaken thief behind bars once and for all. 

_Then,_ maybe he’ll ask Suga-chan out to coffee. Or lunch. Dinner, if he’s available. After dinner is good, too, Tooru’s not really picky and maybe already leaning dangerously into desperate territory.

Catch the thief, then catch a Suga-chan.

It’s a very good plan, all things considered. 

He straightens, and very purposefully turns his back on the tour to make his way to the Anastasia Room. 

Of course, it hasn’t always been the Anastasia Room. It had been converted that way, specifically for this night, at Tooru’s request. It’s a rather unconventional room for the museum to be displaying its proudest new acquisition, but it has only one exit, and is located as deep into the museum as Tooru could find. 

A nightmare for any common thief, not that Tooru has ever judged the White Crow to be common. 

Kyouken-chan glares at him from his position by the room’s only door and moves to block his path.

“Yahoo, Kyouken-chan,” Tooru greets. “Nice to know you’re actually taking your job seriously, but it’s just me.”

Kyouken-chan folds his arms across his chest and glares some more. “Iwaizumi-san said not to let anyone inside after he leaves.”

“Any one member of the _public,_ yes,” Tooru clarifies. “But it’s _me.”_

“I’m not letting anyone in, sorry,” he replies flatly, not looking sorry at all.

Tooru’s eye starts twitching. “Kyouken-chan, I’m your _boss._ Let me in.”

“Iwaizumi-san is my boss, and no.”

“Ohmygod!” _Put the overenthusiastic guard dog in the entrance of the Anastasia Room, Tooru. It’s your most brilliant idea yet, Tooru. It’s gonna work out_ splendidly, _Tooru._ That’s the last time he ever listened to his stupid brain. “Iwa-chan hasn’t even left yet! He’s right there!” 

Tooru points in the general direction of the entrance, but when Kyouken-chan doesn’t fall for it, he stomps his feet childishly. “I can’t believe you’re not letting me get inside the area we’re supposed to be guarding, I’m the _Chief Inspector!_ That room is literally my workplace! Keeping those things inside from being stolen is literally my job! Do you know what that means? It means me stealing it would be rather counterproductive, don’t you think? Do I look like a thief to you?”

“Yes.”

“That was a rhetorical question!”

“It’s okay, Kentarou-kun,” a sudden, mellow voice cuts into Tooru’s tirade, and it’s the only warning he gets before Suga-chan sidles up beside him and loops an arm around his elbow. “He’s with me.”

And, to Tooru’s utter bafflement, Kyouken-chan begrudgingly stands down and moves aside. He scowls darkly at Tooru as Suga-chan ushers him into the room, and then turns his head pointedly away.

Tooru twists to get a better view of the mad-dog-turned-puppy stewing at the hallway. “How’d you get him to listen to you?” And so fast? He’s been under Tooru’s command nearly a year and he can barely get him to call Tooru by his proper title, or... do anything at all if he wasn’t in the direct presence of Iwa-chan, for that matter.

Suga-chan is a miracle worker.

“Oh,” Suga-chan hums cheerfully. “Well, I fed him and gave him water three times a day, plus those little treats that look like bones? He loves those. And then, when he’s particularly well-behaved, I threw in some extra belly rubs as a form of positive reinforcement-“

“Excuse me?”

Suga-chan chuckles. “I just beat him in an arm wrestling match, Inspector.”

As if that’s any less unbelievable than Suga-chan training Kyouken-chan like he’s an actual puppy. 

They stop in the middle of the room, where velvet ropes have cordoned off the space before the grand display.

“There they are,” Suga-chan whispers reverently.

They, of course, being Anastasia’s music box and the necklace that opened it and identified her to her grandmother. 

“Did you know, Inspector,” Suga-chan continues in the same hushed tone. “That throughout the course of her amnesia, the Grand Duchess Anastasia had that necklace with her all along, never suspecting it was worth anything? It’s six pear-shaped polished emeralds of the darkest tone and highest saturation, totalling almost a hundred carats, set in Russian gold, not to mention the rubies inlaid in the center...“

Tooru watches as Suga-chan excitedly recounts every single thing that made this particular acquisition a glorious one for the Seijoh Metropolitan Museum. When he’s in his element like this, talking about objects centuries older than him that most people couldn’t care less about, he’s breathtaking. His eyes sparkle with almost childish excitement, and a rosy hue flushes across his cheeks like it’s a sultry piece of Rennaisance art, the master’s brush barely touching the pale canvas of his skin, dying it in the softest of reds, the perfect marriage of purity and temptation. 

The perfect depiction of effortless beauty.

He truly belongs in the museum, Suga-chan, even though he’s found himself in the wrong side of it. After all, he shouldn’t have to be its caretaker when he is its crowning jewel. 

A punch as solid as any he’d ever received from Iwa-chan finds its mark on Tooru’s side. 

“Suga-chan, _ow,”_ he complains, pouting.

But Suga-chan is pouting, too, flush deepening to a darker red. “Stop me when I start talking too much, Inspector!” he demands haltingly. “It’s embarrassing when I go on and on like that, as if I have no self-control.”

“I think it’s cute.”

“I...” Suga-chan blinks up at him with his big, doe-like eyes. Bites his lip. Flushes some more. “...I’m not cute.”

Totally cute. “If you say so, Suga-chan.”

Suga-chan glances back to the display, clearly looking for a way to change the flow of the conversation. “So, tonight’s the night, huh?”

“The night I will finally win against this petty thief and make him cry at my feet?” Tooru asks, lifting his chin. “Yes, tonight’s the night.”

“I had a hard time convincing Irihata-san to move the display, you know,” Suga-chan informs him. “Especially since I’m still confused about why? So this plan of yours better be worth it.”

“Suga-chan, trust me,” Tooru says confidently, turning to observe the enclosed space. “I mean, look around you and tell me what makes this room different from all the other ones.”

Suga-chan’s brow furrows as he follows Tooru’s gaze. “Musty corners?”

“No windows,” Tooru supplies triumphantly. “No other way in or out except that door right there, and it’s going to be guarded by the best of my men that I’ve personally handpicked for this night, all the way up to every possible exit imaginable. There’s motion sensors on the floor, and round-the-clock surveillance, not to mention the members of the force I’ve posted _outside_ the building, _just in case._ Let’s see the White Crow try to fly his way out of this one.”

“I don’t know,” Suga-chan says, wrinkling his nose. “What if there’s a secret entrance to this room that only he knows about, like maybe he dug a tunnel using lasers or something like that, and he comes out of a door somewhere after he causes a city-wide blackout and then scales the walls using gloves that double as suction cups-“

In Tooru’s defense, he really tried as hard as he could not to laugh.

“I’m serious!” Suga-chan insists earnestly, and when Tooru’s only response is to laugh some more, he huffs. “I’ll even buy you dinner if I’m wrong, that’s how serious I am.”

“You’re very... _creative,_ I’ll give you that,” Tooru says, still snorting. “But maybe don’t quit your day job, Suga-chan.”

Suga-chan’s eyes dance with amusement. “Maybe I shouldn’t, huh? You’d like that, won’t you? I mean, is there any other assistant curator you know of who would let you ogle him as much as you please during a scheduled tour, Inspector?”

Tooru chokes on his next laugh. How did he even-? Tooru was very discreet about his ogling sessions! “I... what... I wasn’t... I wasn’t _ogling_ you.”

“Uh-huh,” Suga-chan hums disbelievingly, smiling up at him with a raised brow.

Tooru sputters some more. “It... it was an area check. Normal police procedure.”

“It’s normal police procedure to check out the area of my ass?”

“You might have caught me while I was just _passing over_ it-“

“Oh, I see, so my ass isn’t showstopping enough for you?”

“I-“ It kind of feels like Tooru just clawed himself out of a grave only to immediately fall right down another one that was just as dark, but about a million times as deep. “ _No,_ I never said that. Don’t put words in my mouth, your ass is very hot.”

There’s a pause.

“Um,” Suga-chan says.

“You know,” Tooru trails off, and then brilliantly finishes this grand clusterfuck off with a rather inspired, “Objectively.”

Suga-chan colors furiously, gaze abruptly retreating back to the safety of the Anastasia display. “Oh.”

“Yes.”

“...Okay? Um. Thank you?”

Tooru is usually much smoother than this. 

He hasn’t been winning the station popularity poll three years running for nothing. He’s very charming. Newbies literally have to hold themselves back from swooning after just one conversation with him. Iwa-chan keeps on insisting that it’s because they haven’t been around him long enough to get a whiff of his true personality, but Tooru suspects he’s just salty that his cakes haven’t done as well as they were supposed to in helping him boost up his popularity ranking. But it’s not _Tooru’s_ fault Iwa-chan failed to consider the fact that it’s kinda hard to trust a piece of cake, however delicate it looks, when it’s coming from the hands of a grumpy old troll. It wouldn’t kill him to smile a little bit.

...On second thought, that would probably just make everything worse. 

But the point here is, Tooru is the epitome of everything anyone could want for a lover, and he knows it. So how come, every time he’s around Suga-chan, he gets reduced to a bumbling idiot who can barely form two coherent sentences together, without walking into some kind of disastrous, inexcusable faux-pas? As if he needed help looking any more of a loser than he already did, considering his incredibly famous, widely publicized string of failures in catching the thief that’s robbing Suga-chan’s museum _blind._

He’s never going to get that date, isn’t he.

“Hey.

“Hey, Inspector?

“Negativity begone!” 

Suga-chan’s fists can probably kill a man. “Suga-chan! We really have to talk about your borderline physical assault tendencies.”

Suga-chan places his hands on his hips and draws himself up to his full height. “It won’t work if it’s weak! How else am I going to drive all the pessimism out of you, huh?”

“Try tender loving care,” Tooru mutters, poking at his side and wincing at the resulting throb. “And it’s not pessimism, it’s-“

“Nope!” Suga-chan drives a finger into his chest. “None of that! I have a question for you! Who is the chief inspector of the Seijoh Metropolitan Police Department?”

“Me,” Tooru answers warily.

“And who, among all the detectives who’ve ever taken the case, has come closer than anyone else to catching the White Crow?”

“Me,” Tooru says, prolonging the word weakly, unsure at where this line of questioning is going. 

“And who was it that swore to the press that he was going to be the one who would catch the White Crow, end his reign of terror and take back all the stolen treasures of our glorious city?”

Tooru blinks. “Me.”

“And, who was it, who just a moment ago declared that _tonight was the night,_ he’s going to catch himself a thief tonight?”

Somehow, Tooru finds himself smirking without even knowing. “Me, Suga-chan.” 

“Yes, you! Exactly, you! So stop being Mr. McDoubtyPants because you’re Chief Inspector _Oikawa Tooru,_ you!” Suga-chan’s eyes soften as he smiles in a way that’s as indescribable as it’s encouraging. “Besides. For what it’s worth, I have a feeling that the White Crow will never be truly caught until he is caught by _you,_ Oikawa-san.”

Tooru’s lips part in speechless amazement at the unwavering conviction in the other’s voice, as if he’s so sure because he believed in Tooru that much. Tooru, whose greatest accomplishment is also his greatest failure, who’s lost Suga-chan’s museum more valuable artifacts than he’s lived years, but who also always looks his squad in the eye every mission without fail, and tells them _I believe in you_ \- a show of faith despite their constant defeats, and a challenge all at the same time. 

Who’s never once stopped to think about what it would feel like to have that kind of blind faith directed at _him._ “Suga-chan...”

“It’s going to be a night to remember,” Suga-chan declares, smiling brightly, the most luminous of all stars.

“Yes,” Tooru agrees, feeling more determined than ever. “It will.”

Suga-chan giggles in reply, and Tooru feels like he can conquer the world.

  


* * *

  


“It’s five minutes to eight,” Iwa-chan reports gruffly, voice crackling in Tooru’s ear.

“Copy,” Tooru murmurs, as a hush falls in the hallway, his men perking up at the reminder, and tensing in anticipation. “Stand by and stay alert, Iwa-chan.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” his best friend grouses. “Good hunting, Oikawa.”

_It’s going to be a night to remember._

“You don’t have to tell me,” Tooru says right back, scanning the brightly-lit room. 

The museum’s head curator, Irihata-san, had almost become apoplectic at the notion of their ancient collections being subject to actual functional lighting. Tooru had to sit through a lecture about exactly how detrimental light can be for some of the more fragile pieces, worn as they were by time. The staff takes great pride in the specialized care they put on each and every one of their exhibits, he said, it simply cannot be.

Tooru also had Suga-chan to thank for being there, and stopping Tooru from doing something more drastic than reminding Irihata-san that if he doesn’t give the police exactly what they needed to do their job, there won’t be any exhibits left to take pride about.

Now, even the outside of the museum is bathed in floodlights, chasing away the shadows in every possible hidden corner. As with all heists of the White Crow, the advance notice has somehow been leaked to the press and there’s dozens of news vans from all the city-wide stations, bearing sharp-tongued reporters and their eager-eyed cameramen, all clamoring for a spot as close to the museum as possible without crossing the police tape. At least they know better than to ignore the boundaries Tooru has set and try at his patience by now. He’s pretty sure interns still secretly share the story of his Big Media Takedown to each other as a cautionary break room tale. 

“One minute.”

Tooru releases a long breath. This is it, he can feel it in his bones. Tonight’s the night. He knows it. After all these years of chasing, through cities and museums and galleries across the nation, he’ll finally be able to unmask the White Crow and gain his long-awaited victory. 

His hand tightens around the gun in his holster. 

“Oikawa. It’s eight o’clock.”

_Wednesday, 2000 hours_

Oikawa’s every muscle coils, prepared to let loose at a moment’s notice, at the slightest twitch of a shadow. He glances at Anastasia’s necklace and music box, protected as they were by the best security money could buy, determined that he wasn’t going to lose sight of it this time. 

As if it happened just to mock him, all the lights in the museum shut off just as he finishes the thought, followed by the collective gasp of the crowd outside as even the floodlights go down, bathing everything in darkness. 

Tooru springs, bolting for the the Anastasia treasures, crying, “Iwa-chan!” into his headpiece, before barking orders for his men to turn on their flashlights as his eyes adjust to the dimness and he finds the treasures still intact in their glass display. 

“I’m on it,” Iwa-chan returns, cursing beneath his breath.

A minute passes.

The Anastasia set is still here. 

Then two.

Nothing happens.

Five minutes.

A sense of unease begins crawling up Tooru’s spine. 

Ten.

Why is nothing happening?

The White Crow is never late. Never. If there’s one thing good about him, it’s that he stays true to his advance notices. If he says he will come to steal at eight, then he will come to steal at eight and be gone by eight oh five. 

So what’s different this time?

“Iwa-chan, what’s taking so long?” 

“Because it’s not only the _fucking museum,_ ” he growls testily. “He’s got a virus in the _city power grid,_ and it’s _self-replicating._ ”

Tooru’s eyes widen, as he looks at his surroundings with renewed eyes. A city-wide blackout. 

This has never happened before. 

Tooru moves even closer to the display than he already was, senses heightened, his entire body burning with adrenaline, and expectation. But without an avenue to release it to, it feeds on the disquiet of his gut instead, eating away at his self-control and mental clarity until he could feel the uncomfortable burn of paranoia bubbling up his throat. 

_“Iwa-cha-“_

“Oikawa-san.” 

Another voice, familiar but laced with an undercurrent of barely-concealed alarm. Tooru runs through his mental database of voices and finally manages to recognize it as belonging to one of their new rookies, Kindaichi-kun. Tooru had positioned him close to the entrance hall, together with his other fellow rookie, where they can be babysat by Watacchi. “Oikawa-san, I think there’s someone moving around in... in the other side.”

The other side? 

Tooru glances at the Anastasia set. “Say again, Kindaichi-kun?”

“There’s someone moving around _in the art wing,”_ Kindaichi-kun clarifies, insistently, sounding as if he’s already running towards the source of his suspicions. “I can hear... there’s noises coming from there, Oikawa-san, I’m not joking, I swear-“

“But why would the White Crow be-“

The lights return in a blinding flash. Almost immediately, an alarm starts ringing through the whole building, loud and piercing and - Tooru looks at the intact display - not from this room. 

It comes to him all at once.

_The Seijoh Metropolitan Museum_

That’s what the White Crow said. But he didn’t actually say _what_ he was going to steal, just that he was going to be there. It was everyone else who connected the day with the arrival of the museum’s newest acquisition and immediately _assumed-_

_Ohmygod._

The White Crow didn’t even have to play them, this time. 

They were the ones who played themselves. 

“The art wing!” Tooru near-screams. “Go, go, _go!”_

It’s a mad scramble to the complete other side of the museum, Tooru pushing past bodies as he goes, every curse he’s ever learned running on repeat on his mind. Every footfall feels like a heartbeat too slow, pounding in his head louder and louder the closer he gets. His predictions have failed. If he’s already gone, if the White Crow evades him _once again-_

Tooru can barely hold down the steadily rising beat of frustration that follows every step he takes. 

He careens to a stop in front Kindaichi-kun, who’s poised by the door to a _storage room_ of all places. 

Kindaichi-kun’s eyes are wide, almost like he can’t quite believe what’s happening himself. “He’s still inside.”

Storage rooms have no windows. Tooru knows this, because the Anastasia Room was one, too. If the White Crow was still inside, then he has no other way out than through Tooru. 

Tooru swallows, fingers tightening around his gun. 

If the White Crow was still inside...

_Tonight’s the night._

“Well done, Kindaichi-kun,” he pats Kindaichi-kun on the shoulder as he passes. “But the White Crow is _mine.”_

He looks up to find Makki and Mattsun’s grim faces watching him, and he nods. At the signal, they burst into the door, guns cocked, Kindaichi-kun’s flustered voice in the back shouting, “Freeze!”

For a moment, Tooru can’t believe his eyes. 

It’s-

How-

_What-_

A group of five _teenagers_ cower before Tooru and his men. 

The shock of it almost makes Tooru lose grip of his gun. None of them even look older than seventeen, and they’re all dressed in the some silly jersey Tooru can’t recognize.

For a moment, Tooru can’t even _think._

He puts down his gun and stalks toward the blond one in the center, the one who looks like he’s actually enjoying being caught at gunpoint by the police while trying to rob a museum. “Who are you and what do you think you’re trying to steal?” he demands snappily.

“Steal?” the boy repeats, shaking his raised arms. The glint of a tongue piercing catches the light as he smiles. “Not trying to steal anything, look at us! We just came from volleyball practice.”

Tooru wants to shake him for his coolness. “Then, _what are you doing in here?”_

“We were in the crowd outside when the blackout happened,” he points helpfully. “And then this guy - at least I _think_ he’s a guy, didn’t actually get to see his face - he started totally bragging he could get in without the police noticing. I mean, it wasn’t that hard, once you think about it, it _was_ pretty dark. We thought it would be fun to tag along, you know, go live the dangerous life for a little while.”

“Guy?” Tooru repeats incredulously. “What guy? Where is he?”

The teenager shrugs. “Dunno. He kinda ditched us once we got inside and then-“

Tooru lurches back outside the room in yet another frenzy, not even waiting for the end of that story.

He already knows how it’s ending. 

When he makes it back to the Anastasia Room, it’s too late.

The White Crow’s calling card laughs at him from the top of the empty display.

The music box and the necklace were already gone.

  


* * *

  


Iwa-chan says, it’s not his fault.

Iwa-chan says, he’d been so focused on getting the power back that he didn’t notice that the White Crow had looped all the feeds to the Anastasia Room so the surveillance footage didn’t even show the fact that the Anastasia treasures had been fucking _stolen._

Iwa-chan says, he also didn’t realize that the White Crow disabled the motion sensors. That he’d believed he’d restored it the same way he’d restored everything else, that he’d be fooled, that they’d all been fooled. 

It’s okay.

Next time.

_Next time?_

Tooru has very specific ideas where Iwa-chan can shove his _next time,_ especially since when he said it, he didn’t even look like he believed himself. 

He flops undignified into the trimmed grass outside the back of the museum, away from the media crew wrapping up for the night, away from the interviews he had to give, and the empty display case reminding him of what he’s lost tonight. 

He closes his eyes, and breathes.

“If that’s a pity party you’re throwing, I’m going to punch you.”

Suga-chan settles beside him fluidly, adjusting his glasses before leaning back on his hands and tilting his head up to the sky. “I heard about what happened from Iwaizumi-san.”

“Really?” Tooru asks, rolling into his side to face him. “Not the news?”

“The news makes a circus out of everything,” Suga-chan declares, peering down at him and smiling.

“That’s a pity,” Tooru tells him, resting his head on his palm. “I put up quite the performance, you know. Very dignified.”

“You’re always dignified, Inspector.”

“I’ll tell you a secret, Suga-chan,” he sighs. “It feels more I’m running after the White Crow like a headless chicken more times than not, these days. Your faith in me might have been misplaced.”

Suga-chan’s eyes narrow. “Are giving up, Inspector?”

Tooru looks up at him sharply. “Of course not.”

“Then, don’t mind.” It’s a silly phrase, something that people use to excuse small, trivial mistakes, but the way Suga-chan says it is serious, and intense. His eyes flash with something Tooru can’t decipher and he falls into his elbows so his face gets even closer to Tooru’s own. “No one is indomitable, you know. One of these days, the White Crow will fall, and you’ll be there to catch him, won’t you?”

“Perhaps he won’t even need to fall for me to catch him,” Tooru asserts boldly. 

The corner of Suga-chan’s mouth quirks up. “I think he’s already falling.”

“Wha-“

“But more than that,” Suga-chan continues, cutting him off, motioning back to the emptying museum. “I don’t think your failures define who you are. And I don’t believe your strength limited to this, either.” He gestures at the museum some more. “So, for as long as you keep on forging straight through the path ahead of you, Inspector, then I’ll keep on counting on you to chase him.” He grins openly, showing teeth and crinkling eyes. “Okay?”

His smile is nothing short of contagious. “Do you ever think you’ve missed your calling as a motivational speaker and life coach, Suga-chan?”

“Hmm?” Suga-chan tilts his head to the side consideringly. “No, I’m quite happy where I am. After all, if I wasn’t the assistant curator of Seijoh Metropolitan Museum, then a certain chief inspector wouldn’t be owing me dinner now, would he?” 

Tooru raises a brow. “And here I thought you were cheering me on out of the goodness of your heart-“

“I am!” Suga-chan says, laughing. “But remember our bet? The White Crow _did_ cause a city-wide blackout. I was right about that!”

“You were wrong about everything else,” Tooru points out dryly.

“Details,” Suga-chan waves a hand dismissively before abruptly getting to his feet. He holds out a hand for Tooru to take, open and expectant, with a sweetly abashed look on his face that was quite at odds with his confident demeanor. “What do you say, Inspector?”

And really, how can Tooru say no?

But. 

Here’s the thing.

Tooru had _known_ he’d forgotten something important because of the craziness of this day. 

As it turns out, he only gets reminded of it once he drops Suga-chan off the front door of his building and the other leans forward on his tiptoes to plant a gentle kiss on the corner of Tooru’s mouth. Suga-chan’s kiss is like the first intake of breath after surfacing from beneath the waves – short and quick and inescapable, a burst of life in a body that has always needed air, but has never really noticed it until now. 

Suga-chan backs away after that one kiss, bouncing childishly on his feet. “Thank you for dinner, Inspector. And,” his smile is teasing, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Thus saying, he dances his way back inside his apartment, not deigning to throw the man he’d struck dumb with a kiss and a few words a second glance.

Feeling quite mystified, Tooru looks down to check the date on his phone - what do you know, it’s 14 February - and _laughs._

  


* * *

  


Kiyoko is waiting for him inside his room, sitting in front of her laptop in the dark, illuminated by the glow of the screen. Beside her, the porcelain couple inside the music box dances around the edges of it to the tune of tinkling music, still in pristine working condition even after all these years. She’s fiddling with a circular disk in her hand.

Koushi would be surprised if he wasn’t so used to it. 

“Kiyoko,” he greets tiredly.

“You’ve finally got one date,” she comments in a deadpan, looking as unimpressed as ever. “Congratulations, it’s only taken you three years.”

“It’s called _patience,”_ Koushi emphasizes, making a beeline for the window in his apartment that’s facing out to the street. “Stealing hearts is a very delicate process, you know.”

“I was beginning to think it was a never happening process.”

“It’s always been happening,” Koushi assures her, peering out the glass. The Seijoh chief inspector is still making his way down the road outside, a striking figure even from afar. What little light the night offers loves him, settling elegantly on the long lines of his body, the planes of his face, the curl of his hair. 

Koushi could sigh at such unadultered beauty. 

“Slowly, maybe, but always. After all, Kiyoko,” he looks back at her with a rougish sort of glint in his eyes, grinning shamelessly.

“When has a phantom thief ever backed away from a challenging heist?”

  


* * *

  


His mailbox is open.

Tooru’s brow furrows as he comes closer to inspect it, sure that it had been closed and locked on his way to work this morning. There’s a package sitting innocuously inside now, below a pristine white envelope whose edges are lined by birds in flight.

Crows.

Tooru’s spine straightens as he hastily scans the inside of the front hallway, but of course no one’s there. So he digs out a pair of spare gloves he’d shoved down his pockets, instead, and puts them on before carefully breaking the seal, taking care not to damage the integrity of the envelope.

Written in calligraphy strokes - 

**I’m sorry we missed each other, Inspector, although I do like the sound of being yours.**

**I hope this offering is an acceptable enough apology. Now you can’t say that I am a stingy suitor, no? After all, I took great pains to steal it away for you.**

Tooru’s gaze falls onto the box. He has a very bad feeling about this. He quickly snatches it up and rushes to his room, fingers shaking slightly as he peels away the ribbon and the fancy wrapping paper that smelled like roses. What’s inside the box actually makes Tooru’s head spin.

_Six pear-shaped polished emeralds of the darkest tone and highest saturation, totalling almost a hundred carats, set in Russian gold, not to mention the rubies inlaid in the center-_

It’s the necklace that Tooru had lost to the White Crow just a few hours ago.

A priceless stolen heirloom, bequeathed to the Seijoh Metropolitan Museum, with history and legend behind it, had been sitting inside Tooru’s _open mailbox_ for however much time passed between when it was left behind and when Tooru had found it. Anyone could have passed by and seen it. Anyone could have passed by and _taken_ it. Imagine a nearly hundred carat necklace being stolen twice in one day. 

He feels the need to sit, for some unfathomable reason. 

**Looks much better when you can see it from up close, doesn’t it? Kind of like you, if I may say so.**

It had been a _joke,_ Tooru’s phantom thief suitor. Something Makki and Mattsun liked to pull out from their pockets in the most unfortunate of times, because they existed solely to torment Tooru’s nerves.

But now, sitting in his apartment, with the necklace of Anastasia in his hands, it suddenly doesn’t seem quite like the office gag it had been, after all.

It, in fact, sounds far more serious than that.

**Until next time, Inspector.**

**I’m quite looking forward to your return gift.**

**Happy Valentine’s Day.**

Seijoh Metropolitan Police Department Chief Inspector Oikawa Tooru is officially being courted by a phantom thief.

**Author's Note:**

> \- I don't know what year Oikawa was born, and there's only so many times I can try to reword _when was Oikawa Tooru born_ and only get his birthday before I lose all faith in Google OTL 
> 
> \- I was too lazy to make up some sort of incredible treasure to be guarded so I just randomly picked a movie and went from there. Obviously, this is bullshit history, and based on an animated movie and it doesn't belong to me.
> 
> \- Also, I realized in the course of writing this fic that I have a tendency to describe people as art and I am not sorry. 
> 
> \- If any of the police procedures sound off to you, I _am_ sorry. I was being particularly lax when I wrote this because I just wanted to have fun and roll with it so -pulls out artistic license- 
> 
> Thanks so much for reading!


End file.
